


Safe Haven (Newtmas short story)

by obrienslahey



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obrienslahey/pseuds/obrienslahey
Summary: Safe Haven?Not without him





	1. Chapter 1 - Newt

Newt had never been the person to swear, but as soon as the Doors closed behind Thomas, he couldn't stop himself.

Desperately trying to get back to the doors, he ran forward in a limping run, but he knew he wouldn't make it. Even if he didn't have a bad leg, the Doors would be closed before he'd crossed the Glade. He regretted walking back to the Homestead now, wishing he'd stayed with Thomas. Maybe he could've stopped him then.

He watched as two small figures slowly walked inside the Maze, and Thomas stood in front of the Doors, all alone. All the other Gladers were probably eating dinner now, they'd already accepted the fact that Minho and Alby wouldn't come back. And they were right. Minho and Alby weren't going to make it. He knew it. They were too far away, and moving too slowly. Something was wrong with Alby, because Minho seemed to be dragging him forward. But he still kept running forward, as if that would help them, make them walk faster.

He couldn't lose them.

He knew he was going to lose them, though. No one survived a night in the Maze. So now, he ran towards the Maze to stop Thomas from running inside. He couldn't lose him too. He cared about him too much. In the few days he was there, Newt had connected with him more than he'd ever connected with someone. Minho would often tease him about it, saying he was in love. And maybe he was.

He saw that Thomas was leaning forward already, looking at Minho and Alby, and he suddenly realised he'd lose him too. There was no way of stopping him. Thomas had been curious about the Maze from the moment he arrived in the Glade, and Newt had noticed how protective he was. He would try to save them.

Crushed by pain, even though nothing had happened yet, he kept running and managed to yell something at Thomas. But of course it didn't stop him.

"Don't do it, Tommy! Don't you bloody do it!"

Thomas hesitated, and Newt kept running, hoping that if he was fast enough, maybe he could grab Thomas's arm and stop him. But the Doors were just a few feet away from closing now, and he had almost crossed the Glade when Thomas sprinted forward and disappeared behind the walls. 

Newt's hands slammed onto the Doors and he screamed. A pain like he'd never felt spread through his body. Now they were all gone. Minho, his best friend, Alby, the leader, the boy who'd saved him, and Thomas, the boy he loved.

Yes, loved.

He fell to his knees and leaned with his forehead on the wall. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself cry. It felt like someone took out his heart and cut it into pieces, after completely crushing it. He couldn't take it anymore. The fear of losing someone was something he never showed to anyone, and now that he lost three people at the same time, it all came crushing down on him.

He curled himself up in a ball and hid his face from the other Gladers, who came running towards him now, asking questions he didn't want to answer.

"What happened?"

"Where's the Greenie?"

"What's going on?"

He ignored all of them until he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked up and was met with Chuck's eyes, filled with tears.

"He ran into the Maze, didn't he?" The boy asked, his voice unsteady.

Newt could only nod, and Chuck sat down next to him, burying his face in his hands.

Slowly, all of the Gladers walked away, except for Chuck, Frypan and him. Newt still hadn't stopped crying as he leaned against the wall with his whole body now.

None of them said anything for a long time. After a while, Newt stood up and slammed his hands against the wall. He was filled with grief and anger.

"Fuck!" He screamed. Chuck and Frypan both looked up. Newt had probably surprised them - he never swore.

He stood like this for a while, swearing and cursing the Creators. Then, after what felt like years, he turned around and slid down the wall, finally facing Frypan and Chuck.

"You okay?" Frypan asked. Normally, Newt would've rolled his eyes at him and made a joke, but now he only looked at him blankly.

"No."

His voice was hoarse from all the crying and the swearing, but he didn't care. He was empty. In a few minutes, every person he cared about was sentenced to a horrible death. At least Minho and Alby couldn't help it, but Thomas had gone in voluntarily.

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was his fault. He should've stayed with Thomas. He should've warned him about the Maze a lot more. He should've told him the way he felt about him, because now that he hadn't, he regretted it. Maybe Thomas would've stayed inside the Glade for him then, if he didn't hate him for it.

He almost started crying again, but he had no tears left in his body and he didn't want to cry in the company of the Gladers again. Alby was gone, he was the leader now. A leader didn't cry. At least not when others could see it. He had let himself go today, overwhelmed by emotions, but he had to move on - even though every single part in his body told him he couldn't, and he knew it. Someone else had to be the leader.

"You know," Chuck said, "Thomas wanted to become a Runner."

Newt looked at him and had to fight the urge to throw something at him. Chuck said it as if Thomas was dead already, and he wasn't. But Newt also knew he was right. He'd be dead soon. He just hoped it was a quick death. He didn't want Thomas to suffer.

"I know," he said, his voice empty of emotions.

Chuck opened his mouth again, probably to talk about Thomas, but Newt glared at him to shut him up. He didn't want to talk about it. It'd just make it worse.

"I'm sorry, Newt," Frypan said, tears glistening his eyes as well. Newt didn't respond. Frypan was sorry for him, but he had no idea what this was like for Newt.

A single tear rolled down Newt's cheek, like a last goodbye to Thomas. He was filled with an incredible sadness. Every time something good happened, it just got taken away from him. Maybe the universe didn't want him to be happy.

"Minho's a tough shank, he can make it," Chuck said. Newt let out an empty laugh.

"Please. It's the Maze. We all know they're not gonna make it."

A look of hurt flashed across Chuck's face, but Newt didn't regret his words. It was the truth. It was best if they'd just accept it and didn't give themselves false hope.

"Maybe we can stay here tonight and wait for them," Chuck said in a soft voice. Newt was about to protest when Frypan nodded in agreement.

"It's no use," Newt said. "They're not coming back."

He ignored their stares and turned his face away from both of them. He didn't move, though. He couldn't leave, because maybe, there was a little chance that they'd survive.

No, he thought. He couldn't think that way. No one had ever survived a night in the Maze, not even the best Runners. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. He'd stay here for the night. He couldn't bring himself to walk away from them.

He heard Frypan and Chuck softly talk, but ignored it. He didn't want to hear their meaningless words, because he didn't want to feel hopeful. Hope was a dangerous thing and it had crushed him several times before.

He clenched his fists and his nails dug into his skin, and he could only think one thing:

I wish that jumping off the wall had killed me.

It was a depressing thought, but death would've been better than this. Losing Thomas, Minho and Alby was the worst thing that could've happened to him, and it happened. He just wanted it all to be over.

He felt a body sit down beside him, but ignored it, hoping Chuck or Frypan would get the message.

He didn't.

"Newt," he heard Chuck say.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

Chuck sighed. "I do."

"Well, I don't, so leave me alone!" He snapped. Tears threatened to fall again and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Is it because you loved him?"

Newt's eyes widened and he looked at Chuck.

"What?"

Chuck didn't look at him, but stared at one of the small fires near the Homestead.

"Thomas. You love him, don't you?"

Newt glanced at Frypan, who seemed to be asleep. He shrugged.

"That's a yes," Chuck said. He finally looked at Newt. "It's not too late yet, Newt."

Newt rolled his eyes and turned away from him.

"It is. They're in the Maze. No one survives a night in the Maze."

"Minho's the Keeper of the Runners, Alby's a pretty good Runner too -"

"Alby's unconscious."

"- and Thomas has wanted to be a Runner from the moment he came up, is one of the smartest people in here, and thinks he's been here before. All together they've got a pretty good chance."

"Stop giving yourself false hope, Chuck," Newt said.

"But -"

"No," Newt said. "I don't wanna hear another word. Let's just wait till dawn."

He heard Chuck move and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for the young boy to fall asleep, but Newt was wide awake the whole time, thoughts about Thomas, Minho and Alby troubling his mind. He eventually gave up on trying to fall asleep and sat up straight, staring at the other Gladers, who were all asleep. How did they do it? How could they fall asleep, knowing that Thomas, Minho and Alby were stuck out there? He could see why they didn't worry about Thomas like him - they weren't in love with him like Newt was, and he was just a Greenie, but the fact that they didn't worry about their leader and the Keeper of the Runners, made him feel sick. Or maybe it was just the thought of Thomas being 'just a Greenie' that made him want to throw up. He didn't know.

Scenarios where he saw his three best friends being ripped apart by Grievers kept playing in his mind, so he got up and started to pace around, trying to distract himself.

It didn't work.

Sleep didn't come at all that night, for he was too worried about the three boys. Every time he heard a wall move, he jumped, and sometimes he'd hear a Griever scream - or was it a boy? Were they being killed right now, or were the Grievers waiting to ambush them - he was sure Minho and Thomas were running right now, trying not to run into any Grievers or get crushed by the walls.

When he saw the first few traces of dawn, he stretched his limbs and shook Chuck and Frypan awake.

"Did it have to be this early?" The Cook complained, and Newt glared at him. Realisation hit Frypan and he immediately looked at the Doors. They were still closed, but both Newt and Frypan knew they'd open within ten minutes. 

Chuck, who didn't have a watch, ripped off three pieces of ivy and started braiding them. Newt plucked some flowers and made a flower crown to distract himself, and Frypan chewed on a piece of grass.

Newt wouldn't admit it, but he was glad that he had company. Last night was the most lonely night ever, and even though he pushed the boys away in the evening, at night he'd learnt that being alone sucked way more. It left you alone with your thoughts and caused you to overthink. Now, with the two boys and the flowers distracting him, he almost felt calm.

With a loud boom, the Doors started opening, and Newt jumped up, dropping everything he had in his hands. Frypan and Chuck did the same, and they waited in anticipation, just like Newt.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw movement up ahead.

Minho and Thomas limped towards the Glade, walking very slowly, but they were alive.

They were alive.

They both looked exhausted, covered in scratches and blood, but they were moving and Minho was even smiling. Newt didn't care about Alby that moment. Seeing the two boys alive was enough for now.

He felt himself grin when both Minho and Thomas looked up and walked a little faster. Some tears slid down his cheeks, but they were happy tears, and when Thomas entered the Glade, he pulled him into a hug without hesitating.

Closing his eyes and letting two or three tears fall on Thomas's shoulders, he held him for almost two minutes, and Thomas hugged him back. When he opened his eyes, Minho flipped him off, but he was smiling.

He pulled away and studied Thomas's face. He was bruised and his eyes were puffy, but he looked fine. He even had a small smile on his lips as Newt looked at him.

"You're okay," he whispered and Thomas nodded. Newt hugged him once again, but shorter this time, because he had to see Minho too.

"Am I getting a hug too?" The Runner asked and Newt rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad to see you didn't roll over and die," he said, and Minho scoffed.

"Asshole."

Newt smiled and pulled him into a short hug as well, but it was different than with Thomas. He stepped back and turned towards Thomas, who held a crying Chuck in his arms.

"What happened?"


	2. Chapter 2 - Thomas

"Most people call me Thomas. Well, except Newt - he calls me Tommy."

It was then that Thomas realised how close he had gotten to Newt. He never really thought about the fact that Newt had a nickname for him, thinking it was normal and maybe he had nicknames for everyone. But now he realised Newt only had a nickname for him, and for some reason it made him smile. He felt special, like Newt cared about him, liked him.

He didn't know which kind of liking he'd prefer.

What he did know was that he wanted to feel special again, but not just in general. He wanted Newt to think he was special. The thought of Newt liking him warmed up his insides and made him feel dizzy, but a good kind of dizzy. It was addicting, like chocolate or... Newt. He craved it.

He never used to be the person who craved attention, and he still wasn't, but he didn't mind when Newt gave him attention, like the day he woke him up to look out the window, or how he hugged Thomas when he got back out of the Maze, and how they'd spent so much time together trying to figure out what the hell was going on in the Glade.

He thought about how close they'd been when Newt woke him up and felt his cheeks redden. What was going on with him?

He looked at Teresa, who hadn't responded at that last comment, but looked at him, frowning. Why didn't he feel that way about Teresa? She was the only girl here, shouldn't he like her?

From the moment she came up in the Box she was a lot on his mind, but not in the way Newt was on his mind. When he thought about Teresa, he wondered why she was here, who sent them here, why the Glade was shutting down from the moment she woke up. When he thought about Newt, he thought about his fluffy blond hair, his deep brown eyes and his smile, the smile that made everything feel better. He thought about how Newt was the first person he liked in the Glade, and he wondered what his feelings towards Newt were.

For a second he wondered if maybe he didn't feel this way about Teresa because he didn't feel that way about girls at all, but he shook the thought off. He had no way to figure out if that was true. There was only one girl in the Glade and more than fifty boys, of course he'd grow closer to the boys. But now that he was thinking did l about it he realised the only boys he'd grown close to were Chuck, Minho and of course, Newt. It was all so confusing he felt like banging his head against the wall.

He didn't know anything about his life before the Glade, but he was sure of one thing: he never liked anyone more than Newt. Maybe it was because Newt was always there for him, like a best friend or a brother.

No, he thought. He couldn't think about him that way. Their relationship wasn't brotherly. It was something else, something he didn't quite understand. He didn't know exactly what it was, but whatever it was, he loved it. It was something that made him feel safe, something that cheered him up after a long day in the Glade. Something that made him feel loved, when there was no one around.

Loved? He shook his head. Newt didn't love him. Why would he love him? He was just one of the many boys that were thrown into the Glade. He was pretty sure Newt treated every boy the same way. Well, except Minho, who was his best friend. Newt was always kind to everyone, and of course he was kind to Minho too, but they'd also fight like two brothers sometimes.

See, he thought. They had a brotherly relationship. What he and Newt had was different. Minho and Newt fought sometimes, but Thomas couldn't bring himself to be mad at Newt. There was something about the older boy that stopped him from feeling any anger towards him.

"Tommy?" Teresa scoffed. "Where did that come from?"

Thomas had almost forgotten about Teresa, and looked at her. She was still looking at him, as if trying to read his mind. And maybe she could. They were telepathic after all, and for a split second Thomas was afraid that she had heard all his thoughts about the blond. Then he realised he didn't even know how to talk to her in his mind, and he relaxed a little. A part of him wished he never figured out how to do it, so that he was sure his secrets were safe. But there was another part that wanted to talk to her, because it was a pretty convenient gift and maybe she'd understand whatever he and Newt were. Or maybe he was just telling himself that because he wanted to find out what he and Teresa were before the Maze, to figure out if maybe he was gay or straight or bi or whatever.

He looked at her for a few seconds, but then returned his gaze to a tree in front of him. It seemed very interesting now that Teresa had asked him about Newt.

"You still alive in there?" She asked, and he could hear her smile.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shrugging. He didn't know how to answer her question, not just because he didn't understand himself, but also because he felt like whatever was between Newt and him, should stay between them. He didn't want anyone to know, scared that they might judge him. Besides, it was something of him and Newt, not of anyone else.

He sighed and looked back at Teresa when he realised she was still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know," he answered. And that was the absolute truth. He had no idea, and he wasn't sure he'd ever have. All he knew was that Newt made him feel something he didn't understand. At all.

"Why would he give you a nickname at all?" Teresa asked. Thomas groaned. How was he supposed to know that? He had been trying to figure out his feelings from the moment he met Newt. He couldn't answer this question, and the fact that Teresa thought he could frustrated him.

"I don't know. Why did you give me a nickname?" He fired back. It had the right effect. Teresa's head snapped towards his direction and she narrowed her eyes.

"You just said you liked it," she said.

"Well, I like the fact that Newt calls me Tommy too," Thomas admitted before thinking about it. When she raised her eyebrows he realised what he'd said, and his face reddened. He wished he could just run away and hide, and not show his face to anyone ever again.

Except for Newt. The British boy was his soft spot.

"Anyway, why do you have a nickname for me?" He asked Teresa, trying to avoid the inevitable question for now. He could see in her eyes that she wouldn't let it go so easily, but she left it for now and shrugged. "I guess I always called you that before the Glade, because it just felt natural. I guess it's like talking to someone who's your brother without knowing it. It just feels like the right thing to do, it feels good."

"You have a brother?" He asked, surprised about that bit of information. She rolled her eyes.

"If I did I wouldn't remember, because my memory has been wiped."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

He could feel that Teresa was judging him, but decided to ignore it. He didn't care what she thought about him. Again, he wondered why. He would find it horrible if Newt didn't like him, but if Teresa didn't like him, he'd probably just shrug it off.

"Did you know that 1 in 4 people is gay?"

His head snapped to the side and his eyes widened, shocked by Teresa's statement. Why would she tell him that?

Because she knows you like Newt, a little voice in the back of his head said. He decided to ignore it. He didn't like Newt.

Did he?

"That means a quarter of the Glader is gay," she continued. He felt his cheeks redden, even though she hadn't said anything about him or Newt.

"I hope Newt is," he blurted out. "He's cute."

He only realised what he'd said when he saw her lips curl into a satisfied smirk. His mouth fell open and he buried his face in his hands. He just admitted to himself and Teresa that he liked Newt.

"Oh, really?" She said. And then she started laughing. He could feel her body shake next to him.

"You're so easy to trick," she said and Thomas groaned.

"Shut up."

"Don't worry, I don't mind," she said and she pulled his hands away from his face. "And I'm pretty sure Newt is gay."

"You woke up ten minutes ago."

"Guess it's obvious then."

She winked and he rubbed his hands over his cheeks, as if that would make the blush go away. He was probably just making it worse.

"I think it's cute," she said. "New, innocent boy falls for the older, tough boy. Who's also one of the leaders. It's like a romantic movie."

"You remember romantic movies?" He asked, trying to avoid being embarrassed again. It didn't work.

"Apparently I'm in one right now," she said and she grinned. He was about to say something back when he heard footsteps and Newt suddenly appeared.

Thomas's face reddened once again and he hoped that Newt hadn't heard a single word of their conversation. But it seemed like the older boy only had eyes for Teresa, because he walked towards them and his gaze settled on her.

"How in the..."

A few other Gladers appeared behind him and Thomas looked at them, trying his best not to look at Newt. He could never look at him the same way again.

"How'd you get here?" Newt asked. "Med-jack said you were there one second and buggin' gone the next."

Teresa stood up and looked at Newt from head to toe, then winked at Thomas, as if saying she approved. He looked away once again. Newt was standing so close he could smell him, but it was a pleasant smell. Mint and for some reason, leather. He found himself leaning closer and quickly pulled back, scanning the Gladers to see if they'd seen it. Luckily, everyone was looking at Teresa.

"Guess he forgot to tell the little part about me kicking him in the groin and climbing out the window," she said and Thomas chuckled.

He shouldn't have done that.

Newt turned to him and Thomas was immediately locked in his gaze. The taller boy looked away, back to Teresa and then back to Thomas, and he took a step back from Teresa and towards Thomas. Then, he turned around to one of the Med-Jacks.

"Congrats, Jeff," he said. "You're officially the first guy here to get your butt beat by a girl."

Thomas laughed again, along with a few other Gladers and Newt smirked.

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next," Teresa said. Newt turned back to her now, but he didn't look afraid. His face was blank, but his eyes were curious and even a little angry.

Thomas stared at him, even though he probably shouldn't. Hopefully Newt wouldn't notice. But Newt seemed so lost in thought that he didn't notice anything at all. Thomas was grateful for that. Staring at Newt was satisfying, and he didn't want to be interrupted. Besides, if Newt caught him staring, he'd have to admit his feelings in front of all the Gladers.

He looked into Newt's eyes. They were a shade of brown he'd never seen before. When the sunlight shone in them, they suddenly became lighter and they'd shimmer somehow. He looked at his hair, soft, blond hair that turned into gold when fire shone upon it. His eyebrows, furrowed together into a frown that made him even more attractive. His jawline was strong and sharp. And lastly, he looked at his lips. They were pink and slightly chapped, but chapped in a way that they still looked soft. It made his insides tingle. He imagined what it'd be like to kiss those lips and snapped out of his gaze.

No. He couldn't think like that. He didn't even know if Newt was into boys, and if he was, there were about fifty Gladers more attractive than him. He looked at Teresa now, who had obviously caught him staring. She smirked at him, and at that moment Newt also snapped out of his gaze and Alby stepped forward to take it over.

She's right, he thought. I like Newt.


	3. Chapter 3 - Newt

As soon as the girl stepped out of the building, Newt knew something was wrong.

They'd been walking through the Scorch all day, all of the remaining Gladers exhausted and sunburnt, the only thing keeping them going the promised cure. They had to make it to the Safe Haven to be cured from the Flare, whatever that meant. Not going meant being killed by WICKED, an organisation they still hadn't figured our yet. So they walked all day, blankets covering their faces and bodies, dry throats and raspy breaths. After a while a girl started screaming in the distance. The sound of it was like a poison, it spread through Newt's body until all he heard was her voice. At the end of the day, no one complained when Minho yelled out for everyone to stop.

Newt wanted to walk over to Thomas to talk to him when Thomas got up and pointed towards a small building nearby.

"Hey!" He yelled. "Looks like a little building up there, just a few minutes away, to the right some. You guys see it?"

Newt turned and faced the building. His desire to talk to Thomas had lessened a little. Maybe there was food in there, maybe even fresh water. He was more aware of his dry tongue than ever.

"Yeah, I see it," he heard Minho reply. "Wonder what it is."

Newt rolled his eyes and was about to reply with a sarcastic comment when two things happened at the exact same time. First, the screams of the girl stopped. Then, a girl stepped out from behind the dark building.

Newt narrowed his eyes, immediately feeling threatened. It was the feeling he always got when Teresa was around. The girl faced them, but he couldn't see who it was. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Maybe it was Teresa, and she'd come back to talk to them. To Thomas.

He walked towards Thomas and saw that he had closed his eyes, probably trying to call out to Teresa in his mind. He felt a pain in his heart. Suddenly, he wanted to walk away from the building and take Thomas with him, just to make sure he wouldn't talk to Teresa ever again.

He shook his head and looked at Thomas, who'd opened his eyes.

"You think that's Teresa?" He asked, barely hiding the jealousy in his voice.

Thomas nodded and then looked around, probably to see if anyone had noticed. Newt pretended like he hadn't seen it, but he felt the stabbing pain again.

"No clue," Thomas finally said.

"You think she was the one screaming?" Frypan asked. "It stopped right when she walked out."

Newt felt a chill creep up his spine. As much as he despised Teresa, the thought of someone torturing her so much to get these inhuman sounds out of her made him feel horrible.

Minho grunted. "Better bet she was the one torturing somebody. Probably killed her and put her out of her misery when she saw us coming." Then he clapped his hands once, in his usual, calm way, like he hadn't just said an awful thing. Newt got slightly annoyed.

"Okay then, who wants to go meet this nice young lady?"

"I'll do it."

Newt turned back to Thomas and again, felt the pain in his heart. He'd said it too quickly. He wanted it to be Teresa. Newt couldn't help but feel jealous and angry.

"I was just kidding, shuck-face," Minho said. Newt's chest filled with relief. "Let's all go over there. She could have an army of psycho girl ninjas hiding in that shack of hers."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Psycho girl ninjas?" He asked.

"Yeah, let's go," Minho said, already walking forward.

"No!" Thomas yelled. Then, he lowered his voice. "No. You guys stay back here - I'll go talk to her. Maybe it's a trap or something. We'd be idiots to all go over there and fall right into it."

"And you're not an idiot for going by yourself?" Minho asked, putting Newt's exact feelings into words. He didn't want Thomas to go by himself, not just because it might be Teresa, also because he might get hurt. And Newt had sworn to himself he'd never get the boy hurt. He stared at Thomas as he and Minho talked, wondering why he wanted to go in so badly. Or maybe he already knew and he was just coming up with excuses. Either way, he wasn't letting Thomas go in there alone.

"This is bloody stupid," he snapped, and Thomas turned around and faced him. "I'll go with him."

"No," Thomas said again, now looking Newt in his eyes.

"Just let me do this. Something tells me we need to be careful. If I cry like a baby, come save me."

Newt wanted to stop him, to grab him by the hand and drag him back, to tell him that it wasn't worth it, but before he could open his mouth Thomas had already walked away and Newt just stood there, silently watching as the boy he loved walked away from him.

He sat down and buried his face in his hands. It was like every time he thought he had Thomas, someone took him away from him again. No matter how hard Newt tried to hold onto him, he kept slipping away from him. His pain turned into anger towards Teresa, and he looked up for a second to see the girl and Thomas disappear inside the building. Then, his sight was interrupted by two legs and he looked up. Minho.

"You alright there, Newt?" Their leader asked. Newt nodded and let his hands fall, wrapping them around his knees instead.

Minho didn't seem to take that as an answer as he sat down next to Newt and mimicked his sitting position.

"You know, it might not be Teresa."

Newt huffed.

"Please. I believe that as much as I believe WICKED is good."

Minho glanced at him. "Nothing's gonna happen."

"What do you mean?" Newt asked suspiciously.

"I mean that nothing's gonna happen. They're probably just going to talk. Teresa won't kill him."

Newt drew small circles in the sand under him. "Well, if she doesn't kill him, she's gonna kiss him."

He heard Minho sigh.

"She's not going to kiss him."

Newt stopped drawing and turned to face Minho.

"Are you sure? Cause I'm not."

Minho didn't answer that question, and Newt didn't say anything either. Being silent meant thinking, but for once, he wanted to think about this. What would he do if Teresa kissed Thomas? What if Thomas kissed her back?

He felt his insides fill with anger and hate, even though it had never happened. The thought of Thomas liking someone, someone who wasn't Newt, was unbearable. It made him feel sick. Thomas had to like Newt, and Newt only, because if he didn't, Newt would break. He'd never cared for anyone as much as he cared for Thomas. From the moment he came up in the Box, Newt had liked the boy. Maybe not romantically at first, but that happened very quickly. It was impossible not to like Thomas, and maybe that was what worried him so much. Because if Newt liked him this quickly, Teresa would too. And there was no way Thomas would pick Newt over Teresa, the only girl, and a pretty one. Newt's only hope was that Thomas wasn't straight, but he doubted it.

"Y'know, it's not possible to kill sand, but if you keep doing this, you're getting close to actually doing it."

Newt turned to Minho and then looked at his hands. He was gripping the sand so tightly his knuckles were white. He let go and brushed the sand off his hands.

"Just thinking," he mumbled.

"About Thomas?"

Newt nodded - there was no point in denying it. Minho was very good at reading people, and he didn't trust people in general, making him doubt everything people said. Newt was one of the few people he trusted, but he could immediately see it when Newt lied to him.

"I know you're not going to believe it, but I think Thomas actually likes you, not Teresa."

Newt raised his eyebrows at him, his way of telling Minho to explain. The other boy looked at the little building and started to talk, seemingly deep in thought.

"I've never seen Thomas look at Teresa the way he looks at you," he said. "You should've seen his face when we found him and Teresa talking in the woods just after she woke up. He was staring at you the whole time, seemed to forget Teresa was there."

Newt frowned. "I've literally never seen Tommy stare at me."

"That's because you're too busy trying to kill Teresa with your gaze," Minho said, rolling his eyes. "What I'm saying is, whenever you're around, Thomas can't keep his eyes off you, even when Teresa's there. And whenever I ran the Maze with him and talked about you, his entire face would turn bright red and he'd start to stutter. And don't tell me that's because of the running, because that kid's got the best stamina in the world."

Newt didn't say anything. He was too busy processing everything Minho had said. It was true that Thomas looked at him a lot, but now that he thought about it, the brunet's eyes seemed to land on him a lot more than he noticed at first. Maybe there was a small chance that Thomas did like him. He felt his cheeks flush and leaned with his face on his knees. The thought of Thomas liking him immediately made him think about kissing him and that wasn't the best thought to have in the middle of the desert, during another Trial of WICKED. But it made him feel good. In a few sentences, Minho had cheered him up. He stood up and took Minho by surprise, who was still sitting on the ground staring into nowhere.

"Let's go."

The words had barely left his mouth when he saw a small figure leave the building and run away from them. He didn't have to look twice to know who it was.

It was Thomas.


	4. Chapter 4 - Thomas

"The following people are not immune..."

Thomas entered the auditorium and let out a relieved breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He had been worried about his friends, but there they all were. Newt. Minho. Frypan. Aris. Sonya. Harriet.

His friends were okay, and they even seemed happy. They were smiling and talking - it seemed like nothing had happened. He didn't see Brenda or Jorge anywhere, though, but before he could ask Rat Man about them, a voice spoke up, and Thomas couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"Well, I've been shucked and gone to heaven. It's Thomas!" Minho called out.

He heard people cheer and call his name, but he was too overwhelmed to react. Instead, he grinned and scanned the crowd until he found Newt.

Whereas he first looked okay, Thomas now saw that he wasn't. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and he looked skinnier than ever, his cheeks hollow and shrunken. His eyes were red and puffy, but when he saw Thomas, his expression changed. It went from shock to confusion to pure happiness, and he stood up and walked over to Thomas, knocking some chairs over in the process, ignoring the complaints of the Gladers who fell on the ground.

And then Newt was by his side, wrapping his arms around Thomas and burying his face in his shoulder. Thomas was surprised by the sudden move, but his insides warmed up at Newt's touch. Newt was a little taller than him, so Thomas wrapped his arms around the blond's waist and hugged him back.

He inhaled Newt's scent and calmed down, even though his heartbeat sped up at the same time. He'd missed the boy more than anyone when he was locked up in the big white room. Every day he'd thought about him, wondered if he was okay.

Suddenly, he felt the boy tremble and Thomas didn't hesitate before holding him more tightly, closing his eyes and leaning on Newt's chest with his forehead. His shoulder got a little wet and he pulled back from the hug to look up at Newt, who had tears streaming down his cheeks.

Thomas opened his mouth, but no words came out. Newt looked so broken, it was as if saying a word would break him to pieces. Instead, he kept repeating the same question over and over in his head, because no matter how long he was gone, Newt had never reacted like this when he came back.

What happened?

He watched as Newt carefully studied his face, with both his hands on Thomas's face. Then, he looked into Thomas's eyes again, and suddenly Thomas could answer his own question.

Newt thought something had happened to him, maybe even thought he was dead. That's why he kept holding onto Thomas, that's why he studied his face, that's why he was crying.

It seemed like Phase Three was a lot harder for Newt than it was for Thomas.

He met Newt's gaze and noticed how relieved he looked, and he couldn't help but smile a little.

He was about to tell him he was okay when Newt's lips crashed onto his.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard people cheer and whistle, but all he could focus on were Newt's lips on his own, moving softly, and Newt's hands, still holding onto Thomas's face.

He was sure he would've fainted if Newt wasn't still holding him tightly.

Kissing him back as well as he could, he pulled Newt as close as possible. Apparently Teresa had been right, Newt did like him. He smiled into the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Thomas didn't open his eyes for a few seconds and raised his hand, touching his lips with his fingers. They were still tingling from the kiss and his cheeks warmed up.

It'd been real. They'd kissed.

He opened his eyes and looked at Newt, a smile forming on his lips, and when he saw Newt smile too, he started grinning.

"Well, that was a pleasant surprise," he said. He felt happier than ever, and when he saw Newt's lips curl into a smirk, he leaned forward to connect their lips once again.

This kiss didn't last as long as the first one, but he enjoyed it just as much. When he pulled away, Newt intertwined their fingers and turned around.

They walked to the table where the other Gladers sat and sat down, not letting go of each other's hands.

"Awww," Minho said, his voice an octave higher than usual. "How adorable."

"Shut up, Minho," Newt said as Thomas blushed and looked down at the table. He was just about to respond when Rat Man came marching down the aisle, clapping his hands.

"Everybody take a seat. We've got a few things to cover before we remove the Swipe."

Thomas froze as Rat Man spoke again.

"That's right, ladies and gents. You're about to get all your memories back. Every last one of them."

Thomas was stunned and he felt Newt stiffen. He knew that he thought the same. After all that they'd been through, remembering didn't sound good anymore. He was afraid of the person he was before, besides, all of it just seemed to easy. If WICKED would take the effort to erase all of their memories and put them through horrible Trials, why would they give them back their memories now?

Rat Man cleared his throat. "As you were all informed in your one-on-ones, the Trials as you've known them are over. Once your memories are restored, I think you'll believe me and we can move on. You've all been briefed on the Flare and the reasons for the Trials. We are extremely close to completing our blueprint of the killzone. The things we need - to further refine what we have - will be better served by your full cooperation and unaltered minds. So, congratulations."

"I ought to come up there and break your shuck nose," Minho said. "I'm sick of you acting like everything is peachy - like more than half of our friends didn't die."

"I'd love to see that rat nose smashed!" Newt snapped. Thomas could hear the anger in his voice and softly squeezed Newt's hand to calm him down, but he got angrier himself. The thought of WICKED torturing Newt and leading him to believe Thomas was hurt or dead just to make a blueprint, filled his insides with rage. He wanted them dead, all of them, for hurting the blond. He managed to stay in his seat, though, watching the Rat Man, trying to process it all and come up with a plan.

Rat Man rolled his eyes and sighed. "First of all, each of you has been warned of the consequences should you try to harm me. And rest assured, you're all still being watched. Second, I'm sorry for those you've lost - but in the end it'll have been worth it. What concerns me, though, is that it seems that nothing I say is going to wake you people up to the stakes here. We're talking about the survival of the human race."

"Let's just all slim it," Thomas spoke evenly. "Let's hear him out."

Before Rat Man could continue, Frypan spoke up. "Why should we trust you people to... What was it called? The Swipe? After everything you've done to us, to our friends - you want to remove the Swipe? I don't think so. I'd rather stay stupid about my past, thank you very kindly."

Thomas closed his eyes and let his head drop as the room broke into arguments. Most of the Gladers sided with Frypan, but the members of Group B seemed to want to get their memories back.

What did he want?

Of course he wanted to remember his family and friends. He'd been thinking about it for - well, as long as he could remember. But something had changed. He didn't like the person he was before, and he didn't want to know why he worked with WICKED. He thought of the broken look in Newt's eyes and his heartbeat sped up once again. There was no way he was going to trust WICKED to tinker with his brains again.

Rat Man left the room and he leaned in close to Minho and Newt so only they could hear him.

"There's no way we do this. No way."

Minho squeezed Thomas's shoulder. "Amen. Even if I did trust those shanks, why would I want to remember? Look what it did to Ben and Alby."

Newt nodded. "We need to make a bloody move soon. And when we do, I'm going to knock a few heads to make myself feel better."

"Not too soon, though," Thomas said. "We can't screw this up - we need to look for our best chance."

He looked at Minho, then Newt, and felt himself lighten up a little. They were going to do something. Finally. All his hate towards WICKED lit up like a fire in his chest.

Newt squeezed his hand and smiled, and Thomas returned the smile. Even though he was still angry, he was also happy. He was finally with Newt again, and in more than one way. Whatever happened next, they'd be together, and that was all Thomas needed.

"Listen, I'd love to watch you two lovebirds make heart eyes all day, but Rat Man is waiting for us," he heard Minho say, and Thomas looked back at him.

They stood up and made their way to the door. Rat Man was waiting outside the auditorium. He led them down several turns and hallways until he finally stopped in a big, windowless room with several beds.

"This is how we're going to remove the Swipe from your brains," Rat Man announced. "Don't worry, I know these devices look frightening, but the procedure won't hurt nearly as much as you might think."

Thomas leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as the room broke into arguments once again. He was done with it. Why did they argue if they were going to do it anyway? But he let them, and took this moment to rest and enjoy the warm feeling of Newt's fingers intertwined with his own. Neither of them had let go after they'd kissed.

But then Rat Man said something that snapped him out of his comfortable state.

"Some of you are immune to the Flare. But... some of you aren't. I'm going to go through the list - please do your best to take it calmly."

For once, the room lapsed into silence and Thomas's eyes flew open. He'd completely forgotten about this. His reunion, and kiss, with Newt had taken his mind off the fact that some people weren't immune, and now fear that it was someone he knew hit him like a brick wall.

What if it was Newt? Minho? Frypan? Teresa? He was more scared than ever now, even though WICKED had promised them a cure. Whoever it was would still have the disease, and there was also a chance WICKED would never find a cure.

"For an experiment to provide accurate results," Rat Man said, "one needs a control group. We did our best to keep the virus from you as long as we could. But it's airborne and highly contagious."

He paused, taking in everyone's gazes. Thomas glared at him and Rat Man rolled his eyes again.

"Just bloody get on with it," Newt said. "We all figured we had the buggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."

This didn't cheer Thomas up at all. Instead, he looked at the blond and was struck with the horrific thought that maybe, Newt wasn't immune. He felt like he'd been punched in the face. Newt said he wouldn't break their hearts, but he would. If Newt wasn't immune -

He didn't finish that thought.

Please, he thought. Please let Newt be immune.

"Cut the drama and tell us already," Sonya said.

Rat Man cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Most of you are immune and have helped us gather invaluable data. Only two of you are considered Candidates now, but we'll go into that later. Let's get to the list. The following people are not immune. Newt..."

Something hit Thomas in the chest. He doubled over and felt his fingers slip away from Newt's hand.

His ears were filled with a buzzing sound, drowning out all other sounds. Within a few seconds, his entire world had crumbled apart.

Tears formed in his eyes and he gasped for breath. No, please, not Newt...

The tears blurred his vision, but when he looked up at Newt he could still see the broken look on his face. Just minutes ago, they had thought they were okay, they had been happy, and now everything had been taken away from them.

His eyes met Newt's and he saw the blond's lips tremble. He felt his cheeks warm up, not because he was blushing, but because hot tears streamed down them.

The worst imaginable thing had happened. Newt wasn't immune.


	5. Chapter 5 - Newt

"I told you bloody shanks to get lost!"

Newt didn't know exactly when he started to feel the Flare inside of him. Maybe it had been there for a while and he'd only realised it when Janson told him he wasn't immune. Maybe it was after that. He just knew that he was slowly losing his mind. And he hated it.

He had told Thomas he didn't care about the Flare. Told him there was nothing to live for except for him. Told him there was a small chance they'd both survive all of this anyway. But now, with the Flare rooted in his mind, taking him over when he didn't expect it, he wished he was immune every day. He even wanted to go back to WICKED, to get the non-existent cure, because leaving Thomas to live with the other Cranks was the hardest thing he'd ever done. It was even harder than jumping off the wall in the Maze. It was harder than Phase Three, where he watched WICKED torture Thomas every day and then kill him. Because when he was in the Maze, he wanted to jump. He wanted to end his life forever. When he was with WICKED, there was still a part of him wondering if it was fake, because of everything they'd put him through - and it was. But right now, he had left Thomas because he was sick, and he would probably kill himself before he was past the Gone. He told himself he'd never leave the boy, and now he was forced to. He would die soon. Thinking about what Thomas would feel like if Newt died made him reconsider it every day, but he still knew he'd rather die than turn a full Crank. What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt Thomas?

There was a small part of him, a sane part, that told him he only thought this way because he was depressed. And that part was right. Newt hadn't tried to kill himself again, but that didn't mean he lost his depression. And now, when he was surrounded by Cranks who wished for death every day, he'd been told that dying was better than being sick, and he started to believe it.

Newt felt a lot at that time. He wanted to die, because he had the Flare, and he wanted to stay alive, because he knew someone imprinted those thoughts in his mind and he didn't have to believe it, and for Thomas. Just thinking about the boy made him weak. Sometimes, he'd imagine a world where WICKED had a cure, and he let himself be happy thinking about it, only to be crushed with pain when he realised that world didn't exist. He wouldn't be cured. There was no cure, and because of that he'd lost Thomas forever.

Still, he didn't realise how much worse he'd gotten until Thomas came to find him.

When he first heard it from the two guards, he didn't believe them. But then they described him, and he was overwhelmed with feelings. He wanted to talk Thomas, but he also didn't. The Newt who was still sane wanted to talk to him and say goodbye, wanted to tell him to move on and life his life, but the Flare took him over and the words left his lips before he even thought about saying it.

"Tell them to get lost."

He immediately wanted to take the words back, but he couldn't say anything. It was as if Newt wasn't there, he was just watching through someone's eyes. He couldn't control what he was doing.

"Are you -"

"Tell them to get lost!" He yelled, and he felt other Cranks stare at him. The guards hesitated, but then turned around and walked away.

He clutched the Launcher tighter in his hands and turned around, facing the wall. He wanted Thomas to walk away.

No, he didn't.

He got annoyed at himself for letting the Flare take him over so quickly. It was even controlling his thoughts now.

Inhaling sharply, he tried to get control over his body back, but nothing worked. He felt himself move, but it wasn't him. He tried to let go of the Launcher, but instead he gripped it tighter. And then he realised that maybe he was nearly past the Gone, and he should stay in here. Or maybe that was just what his sick mind told him to think.

Newt couldn't help it when he opened his mouth to speak.

"I told you bloody shanks to get lost!"

Somewhere in his mind, he'd registered footsteps and voices, and he knew they belonged to his friends. He tried to turn around, but he couldn't. The Flare had taken over.

"We need to talk to you," he heard Minho say. The footsteps came closer.

Please, come talk to me, he thought.

"Don't come any closer," he said instead. The Flare had full control of him now. "Those thugs brought me here for a reason. They thought I was a bloody Immune holed up in that shuck Berg. Imagine their surprise when they could tell I had the Flare eating my brain. Said they were doing their civic duty when they dumped me in this rat hole."

Newt tried to control himself, but the Flare was too strong. Then, a voice somehow broke him free.

Thomas.

"Why do you think we're here, Newt? I'm sorry you had to stay back and got caught. I'm sorry they brought you here. But we can break you out - it doesn't look like anyone gives a klunk who comes or goes."

In that one moment he could control himself, he turned around and faced them, still holding the Launcher. His eyes immediately found Thomas's. He wanted to speak up, but suddenly his vision got a little blurry and he knew he lost control again.

He didn't know who the person was who was speaking, he didn't know who raised his Launcher at Minho. It wasn't him, but at the same time it was. He felt estranged from himself. He registered everything that happened, but he couldn't control it. He watched himself do things he'd never do, watched as he spoke to his friends, telling them to leave. The only thing the Flare couldn't control were the tears in his eyes when he said something he never thought he'd say.

"And you, Tommy. You've got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me to leave with you. A lot of bloody nerve. The sight of you makes me sick."

He had never hated himself more as he watched Thomas break down. The brunet winced, he could see tears on his cheeks and his lips trembled. Yet Thomas still managed to respond with a steady voice.

"What are you talking about?"

The innocence in his voice startled Newt, who didn't respond and just stared at him. Then, he suddenly felt himself move at his own will. He had control again.

He lowered the Launcher and looked at the floor, tears falling on the ground.

Flooded by guilt, he fell to his knees.

Even though he'd told them not to get closer, Thomas was on him in a second. Newt heard Minho say something to him, but Thomas apparently ignored it as he placed his hands on Newt's shoulders.

Newt, who finally controlled his own actions, looked up and met his gaze.

Thomas looked even more broken up close and Newt raised one hand, not to hurt him, like the Flare wanted him to do, but to touch his cheek. Thomas's skin was warm and wet from the tears.

"Newt, I don't get it," Thomas said. "Why are you saying all this?"

Newt pulled his hand back. The pain he felt for hurting Thomas now multiplied, because even though Thomas had gotten the note, he had chosen to ignore it. He leaned backwards and Thomas's hands slipped from his shoulders. The brunet tried to move closer, but Newt winced and moved away.

"My last wish, Tommy," he whispered. "And you can't even do it?"

He knew it was mean to ask Thomas to kill him. They were in love, after all. But he knew Thomas would be able to do it. Because Thomas would understand he'd put Newt out of his misery. But now, with Thomas so close to him, he wondered if maybe he should've asked someone else, like Jorge. He wouldn't care, he'd just do it.

But then there was also a selfish part of him that wanted Thomas to do it, because he wanted to spend his last few seconds with the boy he loved.

"What are you talking about?" Thomas repeated.

Newt frowned. Why did Thomas act stupid? Newt had asked him to kill him, why did he pretend not to know?

Did he even know? What if he hadn't read the note?

He stood up, and Thomas did the same. Newt looked at him, then stepped forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

And then the Flare took him over again.

"Leave," he said, his voice louder than he'd expected.

Thomas's eyes opened and Newt watched the little bit of happiness that appeared when Newt kissed him disappear.

"Newt -"

"Go," Newt said. "I asked nicely. Now I'm telling. This is hard enough. Go."

Thomas had stepped back, his eyes full of pain. Newt would've had the same expression on his face if the Flare didn't control him again. He just wanted to control himself for another second, to say the three words he was about to say when he lost control again.

"Newt, let's go outside -"

"Go! Get out of here!"

He stepped closer and raised his Launcher. Seeing the weapon snapped him out of his current state, and he looked back up at Thomas, his mind suddenly clear.

"Go," he said, his voice softer than before. Tears now streamed down his face. "I -"

He closed his eyes and pulled himself together. Stepping closer to Thomas again, he dropped the weapon and kissed Thomas again, on his lips this time.

"I love you," he whispered. Then, he stepped back.

"Leave."


	6. Chapter 6 - Thomas

_As he'll pull the trigger, he will stop and freeze. Do nothing but cry, and fall onto his knees. He just watched his lover die of a disease, and heard him whisper "Please, Tommy. Please."_

Thomas had never thought he'd ever regret seeing Newt. From the moment they'd met, he had always loved to see the blond. He stared at him when Newt wasn't paying attention, admiring every single part of him, from his fluffy blond hair to his long, skinny legs. Thomas was sure he knew every single detail of Newt, but he never stopped staring anyway. There was something very magnetic about Newt. Thomas couldn't take his eyes off him.

But now, seeing the boy this broken and insane, he wished he'd just closed his eyes and looked away. Newt looked horrible.

His hair had been torn out in some patches, leaving bald spots on his head. His entire body was covered in bloody scratches and his clothes were ripped, barely hanging onto his thin frame. He could see Newt's ribs through one big hole in his shirt.

Newt looked like he was finally a full Crank. Yet he still stared at Thomas, as if he recognized him. Thomas didn't process what Lawrence was saying, because he was locked in the blond's gaze and he couldn't look away. But when he felt the car move, he snapped out of his trance-like state.

"Stop! Stop the van!"

He didn't care to explain; he just opened the door and ran towards Newt, ignoring Brenda and Lawrence, who tried to stop him. Newt hadn't moved at all, and when Thomas reached him, he might as well have been a statue if it wasn't for his eyes, that followed Thomas's every move.

Thomas didn't know what he was going to say or what he was going to do. Ever since he'd left the Crank Palace, he had thought about Newt every day, even more than before. And now that he'd read the note, he knew why Newt was so mad at him. Newt wanted Thomas to kill him, and he'd thought Thomas had ignored his note.

He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Newt hadn't said anything either, but his eyes still hadn't left Thomas's.

Thomas cleared his throat, and managed to say one thing.

"Newt?"

Newt's eyes darkened, and he stepped a little closer.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, his voice lower than Thomas had expected.

"Remember me? The person who asked you one little thing you couldn't even do?"

Thomas winced as Newt stepped forward again. He still didn't know Thomas hadn't read the note when he came to the Crank Palace.

"I - I didn't know, Newt," he whispered. Newt narrowed his eyes.

"Sure you didn't. Always coming up with bloody excuses when you've done something wrong. It's pathetic."

Nothing anyone had ever said had hurt so much. He didn't know someone was able to hurt him like this. It was worse than being shot, worse than all the emotional pain he'd been through when he lost one of his friends. His eyes filled with tears.

"I really didn't," he said weakly. He knew he should've said something else, but these words were all he could say. Seeing Newt like this took out all energy from inside him, and all he could do was apologize, even though Newt didn't believe him.

Newt scoffed and let out an emotionless laugh.

"You think you can convince me? You think you can take me with you to wherever you're going? That's why you're here, isn't it? To rub in that you ignored my note, to take me with you and watch me go insane? I'd rather have a bullet in my head, thank you very much."

Newt had stepped forward again, but this time Thomas stepped back, stumbling over a piece of stone behind him. The normal Newt would've tried to grab his arm to stop him from falling, but now he just watched as Thomas fell and hit his head on the ground. Groaning, he got up again.

"Get out of here, Tommy. Get away," Newt said. Thomas shook his head.

"Just come with me -" he started to beg, but Newt interrupted him, his face full of anger.

"Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn't you read my note? You can't do one, last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you! I always hated you!"

Thomas felt like someone ripped out his heart. The words hurt him more than anything.

He doesn't mean it, he told himself. This wasn't Newt. Newt would never say anything like this to him. But whoever said it looked like Newt, sounded like Newt and was Newt.

"Newt..."

"It was all your fault! You could've stopped them when the first Creators died. You could've figured out a way. But no! You had to keep it going, trying to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the Maze and never stopped. All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should've thrown you down the Box hole!"

Newt started walking towards him now, his hands balled into fists. Thomas tried to say something, but he was completely lost for words. Every word Newt said hurt him like someone stabbed him in his heart.

"I'm gonna blast him!" He heard Lawrence yell. "Get out of the way!"

Those words made Thomas turn, who snapped out of his trance.

"Don't!" He yelled desperately. "It's just me and him! Don't do anything!"

He faced Newt again. "Newt, stop. Just listen to me. I know you're okay in there. Enough to hear me out."

He was still hurt and afraid, but a sudden calmness had washed over him. He was about to speak again when Newt stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak to him.

"I hate you, Tommy!"  
Thomas stepped back in pain. The calmness was completely gone.

"I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk I went through in the bloody Maze, you can't do the one and only thing I ever asked you to do! I can't even look at your ugly shuck face!"

Thomas had frozen in place, refusing to process Newt's words, because he knew that it'd just hurt him more. He opened his mouth and his next words were so desperate he almost felt embarrassed.

"Newt, you need to stop. They're going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!"

He couldn't kill Newt. He couldn't kill the boy he loved, because he didn't want to lose him. He just couldn't.

Newt screamed and rushed forward, and Thomas still didn't move. It was as if someone had glued his feet to the ground.

Newt tackled him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. He struggled to breath as his lover climbed on top of him and pinned him down.

"I should rip your eyes out," Newt growled. "Teach you a lesson in stupidity. Why'd you come over here? You expected a bloody hug? A kiss? Huh? A nice sit-down to talk about the good times in the Glade?"

Thomas shook his head, his eyes filled with tears, slowly reaching for his gun with his free hand. He didn't think he was going to kill Newt, but they gave him some kind of security. Newt was dangerous.

"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you? No, I don't think I did," Newt said.

"What happened?" Thomas asked, stalling for time. Maybe, if he waited long enough, he could convince Newt to come with him. He slipped his fingers around his gun.

"I tried to kill myself in the Maze," Newt said, and Thomas unwillingly gasped for breath.

"Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place, Thomas. I hated every second of every day. And it was all... your... fault!"

Thomas suddenly felt wide awake. A short feeling of hurt and anger flooded over him and he slightly pushed Newt back, who was now very close to him.

"No," he said with a steady voice. "This isn't you, Newt. You never call me Thomas."

Newt's eyes darkened and then filled with a clarity that almost scared Thomas. Newt pushed himself off Thomas a little and blinked a couple of times.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry Tommy," he softly said. Thomas reached for his shoulder and squeezed it.

"It's okay," he said, "you can't help it."

Newt shook his head and closed his eyes.

The next words came out in a whisper.

"Kill me, Tommy."

Thomas shook his head, slowly letting go of his gun.

"I can't, Newt," he said. "I can't do it."

Newt suddenly twisted around and grabbed Thomas by the hand holding the gun. He turned back and pressed the end of the pistol against his own forehead.

"Do it, you coward!"

In a few seconds, Newt had lost his sanity again.

"I can't, Newt!" Thomas yelled. "I can't lose you!"

"Why don't you stop thinking about yourself for once?" Newt yelled back. "I want you to do this! I can't live like this!"

"Then come with me!" Thomas said desperately. Tears were streaming down both their cheeks now.

"Give me a chance! I want to help you!"

"You... can't... help... me!" Newt screamed. An arc of Launcher lightning shot from the van, but it missed him.

"There is no cure, Tommy! You can't help me! The only thing you can do is kill me!"

"I can't kill you, Newt," Thomas whispered. His voice was hoarse from all the crying and screaming.

"Why not?" Newt asked him. "How hard is it to put me out of my misery? Just pull the fucking trigger!"

"I can't do that, Newt!" Thomas said. "I don't want to lose you! I can't live without you, because I love you!"

He hadn't meant to say those words, but as soon as they left his mouth, he knew it was true. He loved Newt, and killing him was just impossible. Yes, he could pull the trigger, but not when Newt was in front of the gun. He didn't want Newt to die, because he'd lose him, and living without Newt was unbearable. It wouldn't be like losing a friend or a family member, it would be like losing a limb. He couldn't function without Newt in his life.

Newt blinked and stilled for a second, but then narrowed his eyes.

"You're lying."

"I'm not," Thomas said. "I'm not lying. I love you, Newt."

Newt made an irritated sound and pressed the gun harder against his forehead.

"If you loved me, you would just do it!" He yelled. "If you loved me, you'd understand it and just kill me!"

"I understand it, Newt," Thomas said. "But I just... I can't kill you."

He raised his hand to wipe away some tears, but it was no use, because they were immediately replaced by new ones.

"I can't kill you because I love you," he whispered. "I can't live without you."

"Just do it! I want you to kill me!" Newt yelled. "For once, think about what I want! I can't live like this, so let me die! Make amends! Do it before I become one of them!"

Thomas hated to admit that Newt was right. He knew he'd put Newt out of his misery by doing this.

But was it worth it?

If he killed Newt, he would have to live without the boy he loved. He would be alone forever. He'd think about him every night, probably wishing he hadn't pulled the trigger. But if he didn't kill Newt, he'd have to watch him go insane and crumble apart. The Flare would still kill him in the end, and meanwhile Newt would live a horrible life because he couldn't control his own actions. He was already almost past the Gone, barely showing the real Newt. And that's when Thomas realised it.

He wouldn't be killing Newt. He would be killing what once was Newt, he would only be killing Newt's body. The Flare had already killed Newt. There was nothing left of the caring, brave and funny boy he met in the Glade. He was completely destroyed by the Flare.

"I'm so sorry, Newt," he whispered. His vision was blurry because of all his tears. He didn't bother blinking them away, because he knew it wouldn't help. New tears would just replace the old ones if he did, besides, he didn't have to look at Newt anyway. He could feel that Newt's forehead was still pressed against the gun.

He blinked, only once, to look at Newt one last time, trying to take in every part of him to remember it for later. He touched Newt's cheek and leaned forward to kiss him one more time. The kiss was short, but it was enough for Thomas. He knew he'd never forget this moment.

"Just do it," Newt whispered. "P - please Tommy. Please."

With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.


	7. Chapter 7 - Newt & Thomas

Soft, green grass. The scent of fresh bread and daisies. The sun kissing his skin. He could feel that if he opened his eyes he'd be greeted by a bright sun. Wherever he was, it was a good place to be.

He laid there for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet, even though the sound of a gunshot echoed in his mind. He curled his fingers around the grass, then let go again. He hadn't felt this free in a long time. The heavy weight of the Flare was gone from his chest, and he could think straight, as far as that was possible for someone who was gay.

His lips curled into a smirk. He was even joking now, even though it was just to himself. It was progress.

He decided to open his eyes and had to squint a few times to shield his eyes from the bright sun.

He sat up straight and stretched his arms, looking at his surroundings at the same time. He sat in a big meadow full of colourful flowers, and to his left, about a hundred feet away, there was a big forest.

He turned his head. In front of him and to his right, he saw small houses made of wood and hay. He spotted some people he didn't know walking on the streets, talking to each other and laughing. None of them were paying attention to him. Apparently they hadn't noticed him yet.

He was about to look behind him when he suddenly realised they looked very familiar. Next to a small house on his right, he saw a dark-skinned boy talking to a boy with blond hair. Across the street he saw a smaller boy braid some hay, like he'd seen Chuck do in the Glade.

He stood up and raised his hand to his forehead to take a better look. And he was right - the tall boy looked a lot like Alby, the other boy looked like Zart and the smaller boy, who now stood up and walked towards the other two, was very similar to Chuck.

He must be dreaming. His friends were dead, they weren't with him. They couldn't be.

He lowered his hand, but froze halfway through. He touched his forehead, and felt a small scar.

Memories of the last moments he could remember flashed in front of his eyes and he stepped back in surprise. He remembered pressing a gun against his own forehead, and he remembered yelling at Thomas to kill him.

He immediately turned around to see if Thomas was there. He didn't see anything but the same meadow behind him, and a big lake up ahead.

He touched his forehead again and felt the scar disappear underneath his fingers.

Was it true? Had Thomas killed him?

He turned back and jumped. Alby had approached him and frowned.

"Newt? What are you doing here?"

Newt opened his mouth to speak, but was too overwhelmed by the sight of his old friend. He felt a grin spread across his face.

"Man, I don't have a bloody clue," he said.

Alby snorted. "Well, you're in heaven, so you're dead. Just thought I should tell you. But what happened?"

So he'd been right. Thomas had shot him. He didn't feel angry or hurt. He felt grateful. He'd done the right thing.

"I got the Flare," he said, trusting that someone had explained what the disease was. "Then I asked Tommy to kill me, to put me out of my misery. And he did."

Alby raised his eyebrows. "Thomas? As in the boy you were hopelessly crushing on from the moment you met?"

Newt suddenly felt guilty, but he shrugged it off.

"Yeah," he said. "We -" he swallowed. "We were together the last couple of weeks."

"Jesus, Newt," Alby said. "Then why did you ask him to do it?"

Newt shrugged. "I knew he would be able to do it."

"Did you ever think about how he'd feel when he did it?" Alby asked. He didn't wait for an answer as he shook his head and said: "Doesn't matter. There ain't nothing we can do about it now."

"Yeah, I guess," Newt said.

Alby turned and started to walk, so Newt decided to follow his example.

"So, what's it like in heaven?" He asked casually, trying to hide the overwhelming guilt he felt. Alby had said exactly what Newt had been thinking deep down this whole time. It was selfish and rude to ask Thomas to kill him.

"Well, surprisingly, a lot like the Glade, minus the Grievers, the Maze and the walls surrounding us," Alby said. "And we can remember our lives now, of course. Or most of it, at least."

Newt nodded. "Good thing we don't have Creators here to kill us whenever they feel like it, like back in the Glade."

Alby laughed shortly. "True. We're completely independent here, but we still all have things to do, like back in the Glade. Got the Slicers, Baggers, Sloppers etcetera."

"Guess I won't need a tour then," Newt grinned.

"Well, you've got all the time in the world to figure stuff out yourself," Alby said. "One good thing about being dead, I s'pose."

Newt nodded and smiled. They'd reached the buildings now, and he was immediately greeted by Chuck.

"Newt? Wow. Didn't think you'd drop dead anytime soon," the boy said, and he grinned as he slapped Newt on his back.

"Never had a buggin' chance of surviving once I caught the Flare," Newt said.

Maybe he should've been sad. Maybe he should've been thinking about what he'd done to Thomas, about the fact that he was gone and Thomas was still alive. But now he just felt happy. He held onto the feeling, because he hadn't truly felt happy in a long time, and because of that he grinned and squeezed Chuck's shoulder.

"You got the Flare?" Chuck asked, and his eyes widened.

"Of course," Newt said. "You think I'd die just like that? It takes a pretty good disease to kill me."

The three of them laughed and Alby placed his hand on Newt's shoulder.

"C'mon, I want to show you something."

He turned and disappeared inside the building right next to him. Newt curiously followed, wondering what Alby wanted to show him. Didn't he have time to figure it out himself?

But then he entered the house, and he understood.

The house wasn't more than just one big room filled with screens, all showing a different person, and every single one of them was one of his friends. He saw Brenda, Gally, Minho, Aris and even Sonya, who he'd barely ever spoken to.

"Everyone sees different people here," Alby said. "But I think we both see certain people, like -" he pointed towards one of the screens - "Minho, or -" he moved his hand - "Teresa."

Newt didn't respond, though. He was frozen in place, eyes fixated on the biggest screen of all. It showed a brown-haired boy fighting Janson, his hands gripping around Janson's throat. When Janson stopped struggling, Thomas leaned forward and whispered:

"That's for Newt, you fucking asshole."

Newt blinked and walked towards the screen, raising his hand and touching the glass. Thomas looked so real, Newt wouldn't be surprised if he'd actually touched him instead of the screen.

"Tommy."

He watched as Thomas ran towards a maintenance room, watched as Teresa sacrificed herself to save his life, and watched as the building collapsed around him. He couldn't move at all. It was as if someone had turned off his limbs - he felt like a statue.

He didn't move at all until he saw Thomas push Minho and Brenda through the Flat Trans in front of them, and then turned around to look at the building. He gasped and clutched his hands to his mouth as he realised that that one move had been too much. He should've ran forward. He shouldn't have looked back.

Because now, he watched as the ceiling came crashing down on top of Thomas.

Thomas

He didn't know how he'd done it. How he'd ran away after he heard the gunshot. He didn't know how he'd helped take down WICKED.

Everything was a blur. He vaguely remembered Lawrence yelling at him to get back inside the van and freezing. He remembered two arms grabbing him and pulling him to his feet, because he hadn't moved at all. He just stared at Newt, already wishing he hadn't done it. Just a few seconds ago he'd been sure it was the right thing to do, but now that he saw Newt lying on the concrete, he regretted everything.

The only thing that kept him going were the thoughts of getting revenge on WICKED and Newt being safe now.

He felt numb. It was weird - he'd expected to feel a crushing pain. He knew that would come eventually, but right now he didn't feel anything at all. His limbs moved, he heard himself talk, but it was like he wasn't there. The image of Newt's body was all he could see.

He finally woke up from his trance when he was suddenly surrounded by WICKED security guards and Janson.

He glared at Janson and was filled with a burning rage. It was his fault. Everything was his fault.

It was as if all his emotions came back at once. He finally felt the pain he'd expected to feel, and the anger towards WICKED.

He yelled and rushed forward, grabbing Janson by his throat and pushing him against the wall. Everyone surrounding him - Minho, Brenda, Jorge, Teresa, Aris, Frypan and some members of Group B - took that as a sign to attack and ran forward as well.

Janson kicked out and tried to slap his hands away but Thomas held on tightly, only letting go once to drop Janson to the floor before he put his fingers around his neck again. He leaned down with all his weight, squeezing tighter until he felt Janson still. A bloodlust had completely taken him over, but seeing him dead snapped him out of it.

"That's for Newt, you fucking asshole," he said to Janson as he leaned down. He couldn't hear him, but it gave Thomas a satisfaction he hadn't expected to feel ever again.

He scrambled to his feet and almost ran into Minho.

"We put them all out of commission!" His friend shouted. "We need to go!"

They both started running, sometimes slipping and falling because everything was shaking. Bombs detonated over and over, and the sound of explosions drowned out all other sounds.

He fell; Minho jerked him to his feet. A few seconds later, Minho fell, and Thomas helped him get up again. He spotted Teresa in the corner of his vision, and Brenda right in front of him. Pieces of the ceiling fell down on him like rain. His friends were barely visible now because of the smoke clouding the room.

A shattering noise split the air so loudly Thomas stopped and looked back. A massive section of the ceiling had torn loose and fell towards him.

He was frozen in place and watched, hypnotized, as it came closer every second.

Who cares, he thought. I have nothing left to live for.

And then Teresa appeared and slammed her body into his, shoving him toward the maintenance room.

He stumbled backward and fell, just as the huge piece of the ceiling landed on top of Teresa, pinning her down. Only her head and an arm jutted out from under it's girth.

"Teresa!" Thomas yelled, so loudly that the sound somehow rose above everything else. He scrambled towards her and grabbed her hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't lose her too.

In his mind he saw Newt, lying on the concrete, and Chuck, falling to the ground. Two of his best friends, one lover. WICKED had taken them all away from him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. Her mouth moved, trying to speak, and he leaned in, trying to make out what she was saying.

"Me... too..." she whispered, "I only ever... cared for..."

And then someone dragged Thomas to his feet. He didn't have the energy to fight it. She was gone.

Brenda and Minho pulled him up and dragged him forward. He shook his arms and they let go.

Another boom shattered the air and Thomas turned his head to see the ceiling fall down.

He ran forward again and reached the door to the maintenance room. He ran inside and let Brenda and Minho go first. They ran in front of him between the tables and he watched their feet as they moved.

They had just reached the Flat Trans when another boom shattered the air. He pushed Brenda and Minho through the Flat Trans, and looked back to see the ceiling come down.

Then, everything turned black.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading this book omg it's originally from my wattpad account (mazememes) but i thought i'd post it on here as well :)

It was weird; neither of them had thought they'd ever see the other again. Newt had assumed that Thomas would live his life in the Safe Haven and would go to heaven somewhere else, maybe with his family. Thomas had assumed that Newt was gone, dead, forever. He didn't believe in heaven. After what he'd been through, he only believed in hell.

They say that when you die you relive your entire life in seven minutes, because your brain still works for a while. Thomas didn't want to relive his life. It had been horrible, he didn't want to think about it ever again. That's why he was grateful that when the world turned to black, he almost immediately woke up again. He was laying on soft grass and inhaling the scent of fresh bread and daisies.

When he saw Newt, neither of them knew what to say. Newt looked good. He was wearing fresh clothes and all his hair had grown back. He couldn't see any signs of the Flare, and he wasn't as skinny as he was just before he died.

Thomas looked good as well. Newt didn't know what he'd expected - when he realised Thomas had died in the explosions, he thought that maybe some kind of misshapen version of him would show up, but Thomas looked better than ever. Newt realised he was wearing a blue shirt and beige jeans - the same clothes he used to wear in the Glade. His hair was clean and looked soft. He even had a dorky smile on his face.

It was Chuck who snapped Newt out of his gaze.

"You know, in romantic movies you two would be fucking in the grass by now."

Newt turned to him and rubbed his hands through Chuck's hair.

"You're barely fourteen, you're not supposed to know that."

Chuck grinned and winked and Newt turned back and decided to be the first person to walk forward. When Thomas saw that Newt was walking, he smiled and stepped forward as well.

Both of them kept walking, faster and faster, until they met in the middle and they both stopped.

Then, Newt pulled Thomas into a hug.

Thomas immediately wrapped his arms around Newt's waist in response. Newt hugged him tighter, pressing his cheek to the side of Thomas's forehead. Thomas leaned forward and rested his head on Newt's chest.

They didn't know how long they stood there, enjoying each other's embrace. It was probably just for a few minutes, but it felt like days - maybe even weeks.

Newt pressed a kiss to Thomas's head and leaned down until his lips touched Thomas's ear.

"Thank you, Tommy."

Thomas didn't say anything, he just hugged him tighter.

When pulled back, neither of them moved. Newt still had his arms on Thomas's shoulders and Thomas still had his wrapped around Newt's waist.

Thomas was the first one to speak.

"Where are we?" He asked. He could see that the place was very beautiful, but he didn't dare to label it as anything yet. Newt smiled and ran his hand through Thomas's hair, enjoying the feeling of strands of hair slipping through his fingers. It was soft.

"We're in heaven."

Thomas's eyes widened and he looked around. Newt couldn't help but chuckle - it looked adorable.

"In heaven? Wait - does that mean everyone's here? Teresa? Chuck? Alby?"

Just as he said that, they heard someone clap to their left.

It was Teresa, looking more stunning than ever. Her hair was clean and cascading over her shoulders and her blue eyes were brighter than Newt could remember. She had a wide smile on her face as she watched the two boys.

"You guys are so cute!"

Then, she turned and walked towards the little houses.

Newt looked at Thomas and raised his eyebrows.

"She's crazy."

Thomas laughed - it was something he never thought he'd do again. Whereas he'd felt anger, pain and numbness just a short while ago, right now he just felt happiness and relief. He was safe. He was with Newt. He was reunited with everyone who'd died.

He was happy.

That night, when he and Newt were lying down in the same bed, a blanket pulled up to both their chins, legs tangled together, he laughed again. Today had been an awful day. He'd killed the boy he loved, strangled someone else to death, watched one of his friends die and then died himself. But he felt happy. He was now sure he was safe. No one could hurt him or Newt in heaven.

Newt had never felt this good. Sure, there were some highlights in his life -like meeting Thomas, and kissing him - but overall, his life had sucked. He had been depressed for as long as he could remember, and when the depression faded a little, he got an incurable disease. He had left many people behind, like Minho and Gally, but now he was reunited with Thomas, and he was safe and healthy. Minho and everyone else would get here when the time was right, and then everything would be perfect. But now, lying down next to Thomas, talking to him, it already felt perfect. He was safer than he'd ever been, and he was clean and healthy, next to the boy he was in love with. And he was sure he'd never leave him again.

So when he told Thomas he had to go to his own room, and Thomas asked him to stay, he smiled and said one word.

"Always."

~ The end ~


End file.
